


Show Me

by Mis_Shapes



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Cheating, F/M, I suppose, Pining, but come on, diversion from season 3 ending, does that really count?, its Aethelred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 07:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17503943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mis_Shapes/pseuds/Mis_Shapes
Summary: When Uhtred tries to leave post battle Aethelflaed send her men after him and, on his return, pleads with him to stay with her.





	Show Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is the first thing I've written that isn't asoiaf/got so I'm a little nervous, but I thought I'd give it a whirl on a ficlet before I tried anything more substantial. I don't think I know anyone who reads/writes tlk fics so it hasn't been beta'd and for that I apologise!

The air inside the tent was muggy and close in comparison to the night air outside it, but the coolness of her manner was enough to send a shiver throughout him. 

He had left after the battle, meaning to leave Wessex and Mercia behind, and Aethelflaed had had the foresight to know that he would. Of course she had, just as her father would have once suspected, only she had the guts and tenacity to dig in her heels and refuse it. On account of him being taken by surprise by the bold move it had not taken her men long to find him and drag him back to her like some runaway mutt. 

Busying herself with tasks by candlelight, she feigned disinterest with him as she scratched at the piece of parchment with a quill, like it was her life's work. The comparison to her father could be startling at times. This was both of their ways of asserting themselves, a demonstration of power over warriors who played with swords. Only her face betrayed her. He was used to this petulant look on both his children when they were denied something and Gisela when he had done something wrong only she knew what. With lips pursed ever so tightly she avoided his eyes.

“Lady, I believe you wanted to see me,” he interrupted her, trying and failing to keep concealed both his amusement and annoyance which vied for dominance within him. Who was she to provide him with orders?

At last, she deigned to look up from her work, raising her pointed chin to look down her nose at him, in such a display of haughtiness her mother would have been proud to see it on her daughter.

“Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” She asked with disdain, arching her brows, and sat back in her chair.

“Me?” Uhtred scoffed bitterly. He had done no wrong.

She crossed her arms over herself on reflex.

“Who else?”

Pushed to anger, he turned away from her and clasped the back of his head with both hands in desperation, taking a deep breath before he faced her.

“It is you who felt they must drag me once more from claiming my birthright!” He cried out in frustration, knowing full well she was about to wear him down.

She stood up from her her chair and came around the table to face him square on, a hand set against the tabletop, and asked harshly, “is your birthright worth more to you than my life and that and the life of my daughter?”

“Lady,” exasperated, he threw down his hands before him, “with all due respect, i saw you ride into battle weilding a sword above your head. It seemed there was little need for me.”

“I need you by my side if I am to return to my estate, Uhtred,” she tried, softening her voice.

“Need or want, Lady?” And there he knew he had struck a nerve.

Aethelflaed paused, removing her eyes from him once more. The hoops of her earrings swung as she turned to fixate on the flap of the doorway, mulling over her thoughts. From this angle her right cheek hit the light of the candle directly and showed the full extent of how a blow to her cheek bone had painted it purple. It was to be expected, and was a minor injury compared to what those without guard or mount would have sustained, but the bruise on her delicate features affected him more than he dare admit, even to himself.

“And what if it were want? What then?” She asked with lowered voice, as though she could barely believe she was saying it herself. If eyes were windows to the soul then she laid it out, so vulnerable and yet proud, before him.

He closed his eyes to avoid looking at her in order to get through making his decision without an overwhelming feeling of guilt. 

“I have sworn an oath too many times to your family already do to something based on want.”

“I ask for no oath of fealty, Uhtred, only for you to find it in your heart to remain,” Aethelflaed implored him, taking a step forwards and setting a hand against his armour above his heart.

“Aethelflaed,” he breathed, covering her hand with his own, but making no attempt to remove it, “this can not be.”

“I didn’t-”

“No, but I don’t believe accompanying you to be wise,” admitted Uhtred, becoming sombre, pained at having to deny any feeling.

“Am I that undesirable?”

It was such a foolish suggestion that he let himself go momentarily and shook his head with disbelief, using the thumb against her hand to stroke the soft skin there gently, his eyes looked up to the red canopy of the tent.

“The gods help me, no, and in that lies the problem.”

They gravitated towards one another, unable to help themselves any longer. He felt her hot breath against him, mingling with his own, and his entire being willed him to take action, to seize her mouth with his. Foreheads resting against each other, he looked into her blue-grey eyes and watched as hers flicked to his mouth and back.

“We musn’t,” he muttered unconvincingly, seeking reassurance.

“There is nothing to stop us.”

“You are married.”

She laughed bitterly and refused to dignify it with a response.

He tried again, “you are Alfred’s daughter.”

“You suppose he would prefer you to abandon me to Aethelred had he have known the extent of it?”

“I know he would disapprove wholeheartedly of that which I long to do.”

“Show me,” she whispered against his lips, her nose nuzzling at his own.

“Do you command me to, my lady?”

Aethelflaed smirked and bit her lower lip lightly.

“I do.”

His thumb, calloused from the wielding of swords, brushed against her plump lips and fingers traced over the bruising tenderly on their way to cup her cheek, to slide back and thread into her hair, pulling her into his kiss. She melted beautifully under his touch, moaning softly as her hands sought to touch him somewhere not covered by neither leathers nor furs. 

Smiling into the kiss at her frustrations, he dared to grip her keenly at the waist below her cloak, and, finding some use for her hands, she immediately set about undoing both the fur around her shoulders and the cloak.

“You are too hasty,” he teased her jovially.

“You forget that I have been without the kind touch of a man for some time now, and I have wanted this even longer.”


End file.
